Spring is arriving earlier than ever according to the National Park Service (NPS). As pleasant as it sounds, this has broad ramifications—such as the devastating floods in the Midwest this week. NPS ecologists published a study in 2016 that compared long-term shifts in the "first leaf" and first bloom dates of national parks. Of the 276 parks in the study, 75 percent are experiencing earlier and earlier first budding and blooming dates (the locations shown above in green). For example, in Washington's Olympic National Park, leaves are emerging 23 days sooner than they did 100 years ago. The Grand Canyon and the Appalachians are budding earlier as well. But areas in grey, such as the south, have been experiencing delayed signs of spring. Why is this such a big deal? For starters, "false springs" are partially responsible for premature blooming. Waves of unseasonable warmth cause plants to sprout in winter. The plants die when the cold resumes. Meaning that the migratory birds, pollinators, and hibernating mammals who rely on those plants find themselves in dire straits. Also, premature thaws of snowpacks lead to flooding which is not only dangerous but means the water can't be captured properly in reservoirs. So before you get too hopeful that spring will spring early… it might be better to wish for a few more weeks of winter.

Spring is arriving earlier than ever according to the National Park Service (NPS). As pleasant as it sounds, this has broad ramifications—such as the devastating floods in the Midwest this week. NPS ecologists published a study in 2016 that compared long-term shifts in the "first leaf" and first bloom dates of national parks. Of the 276 parks in the study, 75 percent are experiencing earlier and earlier first budding and blooming dates (the locations shown above in green). For example, in Washington's Olympic National Park, leaves are emerging 23 days sooner than they did 100 years ago. The Grand Canyon and the Appalachians are budding earlier as well. But areas in grey, such as the south, have been experiencing delayed signs of spring. Why is this such a big deal? For starters, "false springs" are partially responsible for premature blooming. Waves of unseasonable warmth cause plants to sprout in winter. The plants die when the cold resumes. Meaning that the migratory birds, pollinators, and hibernating mammals who rely on those plants find themselves in dire straits. Also, premature thaws of snowpacks lead to flooding which is not only dangerous but means the water can't be captured properly in reservoirs. So before you get too hopeful that spring will spring early… it might be better to wish for a few more weeks of winter.

Some bees just want to escape the buzz of hive life. Shown above is a mud-flower bee nest created by a member of Osmia avosetta, a solitary species of mason bee that prefers burrows to honeycombs. The autonomy comes with a price, though; females lack the babysitters that beehives accommodate, and must craft these vibrant temperature-controlled chambers to protect their larvae. To create one, an expectant mother first harvests flower petals and hoards them at her nest site, where she burrows about a half-inch into the ground. She then applies overlapping layers of petals and mud to create a shingled nest, and pools it with syrupy pollen and nectar upon which she lays her eggs. Finally, she plugs the chamber with mud. While the exterior hardens, the interior remains humid for the larvae to mature, sip nectar, and wait out harsh winters. It's quite literally a "bed of roses!"

Below: a close-up of Osmia avosetta collecting pollen and more looks at the species' colorful nests.

Some bees just want to escape the buzz of hive life. Shown above is a mud-flower bee nest created by a member of Osmia avosetta, a solitary species of mason bee that prefers burrows to honeycombs. The autonomy comes with a price, though; females lack the babysitters that beehives accommodate, and must craft these vibrant temperature-controlled chambers to protect their larvae. To create one, an expectant mother first harvests flower petals and hoards them at her nest site, where she burrows about a half-inch into the ground. She then applies overlapping layers of petals and mud to create a shingled nest, and pools it with syrupy pollen and nectar upon which she lays her eggs. Finally, she plugs the chamber with mud. While the exterior hardens, the interior remains humid for the larvae to mature, sip nectar, and wait out harsh winters. It's quite literally a "bed of roses!"

Below: a close-up of Osmia avosetta collecting pollen and more looks at the species' colorful nests.

The Babylonians really knew how to ring in the new year with a great parade. This relief of a lion resided on the original Ishtar Gate, a structure to the north of the city of Babylon that saw special processions during the Akitu festival in Spring. The Akitu festival marked the lunar calendar new year, during which the Babylonians celebrated with parades and retellings of the victory of Marduk, the king of the gods, over sea goddess Tiamat in dragon form. The reign of Nebuchadnezzar II in 600 B.C.E. saw a rise in Babylonian artwork, including the construction of the Ishtar Gate—named after the lion goddess of justice and fertility. Other creatures adorned the blue-and-gold gate in animal form, including Marduk's dragons and the storm god Adad's bulls. During the Akitu procession, a golden statue of Marduk would be carried through the streets of Babylon, which were lined with carvings of Ishtar's lions. To witness the ritual truly would have invoked the words of Nebuchadnezzar's gate plaque: "I placed wild bulls and ferocious dragons in the gateways and thus adorned them with luxurious splendor so that people might gaze on them in wonder."

Below: a recreation of the Ishtar Gate at the Pergamon Museum in Berlin, Germany, which was inaugurated in 1930. Excavation efforts originally began in 1899, though World War I delayed digging and restoration.

The Babylonians really knew how to ring in the new year with a great parade. This relief of a lion resided on the original Ishtar Gate, a structure to the north of the city of Babylon that saw special processions during the Akitu festival in Spring. The Akitu festival marked the lunar calendar new year, during which the Babylonians celebrated with parades and retellings of the victory of Marduk, the king of the gods, over sea goddess Tiamat in dragon form. The reign of Nebuchadnezzar II in 600 B.C.E. saw a rise in Babylonian artwork, including the construction of the Ishtar Gate—named after the lion goddess of justice and fertility. Other creatures adorned the blue-and-gold gate in animal form, including Marduk's dragons and the storm god Adad's bulls. During the Akitu procession, a golden statue of Marduk would be carried through the streets of Babylon, which were lined with carvings of Ishtar's lions. To witness the ritual truly would have invoked the words of Nebuchadnezzar's gate plaque: "I placed wild bulls and ferocious dragons in the gateways and thus adorned them with luxurious splendor so that people might gaze on them in wonder."

Below: a recreation of the Ishtar Gate at the Pergamon Museum in Berlin, Germany, which was inaugurated in 1930. Excavation efforts originally began in 1899, though World War I delayed digging and restoration.

It's spring, and sleazy '70s love is in the air, thanks to Donna Summers. The "Queen of Disco," Summers found a multimillion-selling sound by capturing the hedonism of the era with intoxicated falsetto vocals. On tracks like Spring Affair, off the album Four Seasons of Love (1976), she lifts her airy voice over chimes and a giddy baseline to confess her springtime yearnings. Spring Affair was indicative of Summers' productive early years: a churning of erotic hit carols like the pulsing Love to Love You Baby (1975). Unfortunately, the songstress' kitschy sex appeal lost its mojo alongside the disco genre, which faded in 1980; though, the diva's transition into rock and gospel softened her fall from stardom. Fortunately for Summers, she nevertheless roller skated into retirement with five Grammys for dance, R&B, rock, and gospel—a groovy consolation, if you ask us!

It's spring, and sleazy '70s love is in the air, thanks to Donna Summers. The "Queen of Disco," Summers found a multimillion-selling sound by capturing the hedonism of the era with intoxicated falsetto vocals. On tracks like Spring Affair, off the album Four Seasons of Love (1976), she lifts her airy voice over chimes and a giddy baseline to confess her springtime yearnings. Spring Affair was indicative of Summers' productive early years: a churning of erotic hit carols like the pulsing Love to Love You Baby (1975). Unfortunately, the songstress' kitschy sex appeal lost its mojo alongside the disco genre, which faded in 1980; though, the diva's transition into rock and gospel softened her fall from stardom. Fortunately for Summers, she nevertheless roller skated into retirement with five Grammys for dance, R&B, rock, and gospel—a groovy consolation, if you ask us!

Yawn. (Sorry, I went to bed late last night.) This is upsetting news. A recently published study from psychologists at the University of Colorado shows that "catch-up" sleep isn't a good thing. Many of us burn the candle at both ends during the week, then turn off the alarm on Saturday and Sunday mornings. But when the Colorado researchers invited volunteers into a nine-day sleep study, they found this type of binge/recovery sleep cycle is quite unhealthy. Participants were divided into three groups. One group was allowed nine nights of unrestricted sleep. The second group got only five hours per night. The third group had five nights of five-hour rest, then two nights of unrestricted sleep, then two more nights of five-hour rest—to mimic the work week. The results, which appear in the journal Current Biology, were pretty alarming. Both groups who had sleep deprivation showed weight gain compared to the group with no sleep restrictions. But the group that binge-slept on the weekends appeared to also have reduced liver and muscle insulin sensitivity, or less ability to regulate their blood sugar. That can lead to obesity and metabolic disease. So I guess this means if you are going to be sleep deprived, do it at a level you can maintain on a daily basis. And next time you are craving a late night treat, choose sweet dreams instead.

Yawn. (Sorry, I went to bed late last night.) This is upsetting news. A recently published study from psychologists at the University of Colorado shows that "catch-up" sleep isn't a good thing. Many of us burn the candle at both ends during the week, then turn off the alarm on Saturday and Sunday mornings. But when the Colorado researchers invited volunteers into a nine-day sleep study, they found this type of binge/recovery sleep cycle is quite unhealthy. Participants were divided into three groups. One group was allowed nine nights of unrestricted sleep. The second group got only five hours per night. The third group had five nights of five-hour rest, then two nights of unrestricted sleep, then two more nights of five-hour rest—to mimic the work week. The results, which appear in the journal Current Biology, were pretty alarming. Both groups who had sleep deprivation showed weight gain compared to the group with no sleep restrictions. But the group that binge-slept on the weekends appeared to also have reduced liver and muscle insulin sensitivity, or less ability to regulate their blood sugar. That can lead to obesity and metabolic disease. So I guess this means if you are going to be sleep deprived, do it at a level you can maintain on a daily basis. And next time you are craving a late night treat, choose sweet dreams instead.

Nick of Time wasn't just the title of Bonnie Raitt's breakthrough album from 1989: it was also a motto for the singer and guitarist who saved her life from falling apart. Raitt was at a personal low a few years before Nick of Time was released, struggling with out-of-control substance abuse and the sting of being dropped from her record label, Warner Bros. She even ended up funding her own tours, and as audiences shrank, so did her savings. With the help of her friend Stevie Ray Vaughan, Raitt got sober; and an appearance on the hit HBO special Roy Orbison: Black and White Night gave Raitt the clout to start recording a comeback album. Produced by Don Was (current President of Blue Note Records), Nick of Time found Raitt showing off her blues chops and bottleneck slide guitar skills (using a cylindrical device on the fretted hand to get a vibrato-heavy sound) in songs like Thing Called Love. Nick of Time scored Raitt her first #1 album and Grammy for Album of the Year, proving there was no time to waste in taking advantage of her newfound popularity.

Nick of Time wasn't just the title of Bonnie Raitt's breakthrough album from 1989: it was also a motto for the singer and guitarist who saved her life from falling apart. Raitt was at a personal low a few years before Nick of Time was released, struggling with out-of-control substance abuse and the sting of being dropped from her record label, Warner Bros. She even ended up funding her own tours, and as audiences shrank, so did her savings. With the help of her friend Stevie Ray Vaughan, Raitt got sober; and an appearance on the hit HBO special Roy Orbison: Black and White Night gave Raitt the clout to start recording a comeback album. Produced by Don Was (current President of Blue Note Records), Nick of Time found Raitt showing off her blues chops and bottleneck slide guitar skills (using a cylindrical device on the fretted hand to get a vibrato-heavy sound) in songs like Thing Called Love. Nick of Time scored Raitt her first #1 album and Grammy for Album of the Year, proving there was no time to waste in taking advantage of her newfound popularity.

Spring training is back, and baseball is struggling to stay relevant. The spectacular hits of football and the fast-paced, high-flying action of basketball are more digestible for our planet's 30-second attention span. Which means some of baseball's oldest traditions are looking especially out of date these days. Case in point is the seventh-inning stretch. At every MLB game, all the fans stand up during the middle of the seventh inning and overcome their boredom by singing a song—and actually stretching. It's so silly it's kind of quaint. Can you imagine the crowd at an NFL game doing the same? They'd be more likely to all sit down for a collective rest!

The origin of the seventh-inning stretch is unclear. One legend is that all 6'2" and 300 pounds of President William Taft decided to stand up during the seventh inning of opening day for the Washington Senators on April 14, 1910. The entire crowd, not wanting to be disrespectful, did the same and the tradition was born. Except Manhattan College claims they invented the tradition 30 years earlier. During a game with the semi-pro New York Metropolitans in June of 1882, the team's manager Brother Jaspar allowed the students—who were expected to sit still through the entire contest—to stand up because the weather was so hot. It was the middle of the seventh inning and the tradition was born. Except the Cincinnati Reds produced a letter written by Harry Wright, the Reds' original owner and founder of professional baseball. In it, Wright describes how the Reds' fans all stand up in the middle of the seventh inning "to extend their legs and arms, and sometimes walk about… to enjoy the relief afforded by relaxation from a long posture on hard benches." The date of the letter was 1869. I'm just sayin' maybe the problem with baseball isn't the hardness of the benches, but the lack of reasons for fans to stand up during the rest of the game.

Spring training is back, and baseball is struggling to stay relevant. The spectacular hits of football and the fast-paced, high-flying action of basketball are more digestible for our planet's 30-second attention span. Which means some of baseball's oldest traditions are looking especially out of date these days. Case in point is the seventh-inning stretch. At every MLB game, all the fans stand up during the middle of the seventh inning and overcome their boredom by singing a song—and actually stretching. It's so silly it's kind of quaint. Can you imagine the crowd at an NFL game doing the same? They'd be more likely to all sit down for a collective rest!

The origin of the seventh-inning stretch is unclear. One legend is that all 6'2" and 300 pounds of President William Taft decided to stand up during the seventh inning of opening day for the Washington Senators on April 14, 1910. The entire crowd, not wanting to be disrespectful, did the same and the tradition was born. Except Manhattan College claims they invented the tradition 30 years earlier. During a game with the semi-pro New York Metropolitans in June of 1882, the team's manager Brother Jaspar allowed the students—who were expected to sit still through the entire contest—to stand up because the weather was so hot. It was the middle of the seventh inning and the tradition was born. Except the Cincinnati Reds produced a letter written by Harry Wright, the Reds' original owner and founder of professional baseball. In it, Wright describes how the Reds' fans all stand up in the middle of the seventh inning "to extend their legs and arms, and sometimes walk about… to enjoy the relief afforded by relaxation from a long posture on hard benches." The date of the letter was 1869. I'm just sayin' maybe the problem with baseball isn't the hardness of the benches, but the lack of reasons for fans to stand up during the rest of the game.

National Puppy Day is this week, and we're lamenting that the late Jim Buck can't join us in the festivities. According to The New York Times, Buck became the first professional dog walker in 1964, receiving a profile in the famed newspaper entitled "145-Pounder Walks 500 Pounds of Dogs." Unsatisfied with his job as an electronics salesman, Buck quit and began advertising his skills with dog walking and training to his fellow wealthy Upper-East Side New Yorkers. As he became more successful with his pooch venture, Buck could be found walking 30-40 dogs across 25 miles of Manhattan "wearing out the soles of a pair of construction shoes every two weeks." Replacement shoes were no biggie, though: Buck could make up to $500 a week walking the dogs (a hefty $4000 in today's dollars). Buck's business soon employed dozens of walkers tasked with herding hundreds of dogs across New York, with the profits allowing him to form his own training academy, the Jim Buck’s School for Dogs. If dogs could talk, we bet a lot of Buck's pawing pupils would have thanked him for making their lives a little less ruff.

National Puppy Day is this week, and we're lamenting that the late Jim Buck can't join us in the festivities. According to The New York Times, Buck became the first professional dog walker in 1964, receiving a profile in the famed newspaper entitled "145-Pounder Walks 500 Pounds of Dogs." Unsatisfied with his job as an electronics salesman, Buck quit and began advertising his skills with dog walking and training to his fellow wealthy Upper-East Side New Yorkers. As he became more successful with his pooch venture, Buck could be found walking 30-40 dogs across 25 miles of Manhattan "wearing out the soles of a pair of construction shoes every two weeks." Replacement shoes were no biggie, though: Buck could make up to $500 a week walking the dogs (a hefty $4000 in today's dollars). Buck's business soon employed dozens of walkers tasked with herding hundreds of dogs across New York, with the profits allowing him to form his own training academy, the Jim Buck’s School for Dogs. If dogs could talk, we bet a lot of Buck's pawing pupils would have thanked him for making their lives a little less ruff.

Most psychologists now agree that loneliness is an actual mental disease. The prevalence varies greatly by country: Azerbaijan has the lowest rates, at under 5%; Denmark reports rates of over 20%; most Western countries have rates in the high teens. But a new paper published recently in Social Psychiatry and Psychiatric Epidemiology, suggests those numbers are greatly understated. The author, Philip Hyland from Trinity College Dublin, argues that scientists have been measuring loneliness incorrectly. Hyland says that, instead of a binary measurement, loneliness should be divided into a 2 x 2 matrix. He surveyed 1,839 U.S. adults aged between 18 and 70, all of whom had experienced at least one traumatic event in their lifetime. Using conventional methods, he determined 17.1% of the sample were classified as "lonely." That's in line with historical norms. Then he used a more detailed statistical technique to rate the participants' perceptions of their "social loneliness" (quantity of relationships) and "emotional loneliness" (quality of relationships) and compared it with their psychological distress. Respondents who scored high in both social and emotional loneliness, or just emotional loneliness, had levels of depression, anxiety, and negative psychological health that could be classified as a psychiatric disorder. 39% of participants fell into these two categories—over double the 17.1% number! The other 61%, roughly half of whom had neither type of loneliness and 8% had only social loneliness, did not exhibit signs of mental distress. Hyland believes his results show that loneliness, especially the "emotional" kind which comes from too few deep connections with others, is much more prevalent than previously acknowledged. Since loneliness has already been correlated to poor sleep, high blood pressure, cognitive decline, and early death, addressing loneliness could have a big impact on overall health and lifespan. Hyland suggests we should start by focusing on the quality, not the quantity of human connections. Which means less Facebook and more face time!

Most psychologists now agree that loneliness is an actual mental disease. The prevalence varies greatly by country: Azerbaijan has the lowest rates, at under 5%; Denmark reports rates of over 20%; most Western countries have rates in the high teens. But a new paper published recently in Social Psychiatry and Psychiatric Epidemiology, suggests those numbers are greatly understated. The author, Philip Hyland from Trinity College Dublin, argues that scientists have been measuring loneliness incorrectly. Hyland says that, instead of a binary measurement, loneliness should be divided into a 2 x 2 matrix. He surveyed 1,839 U.S. adults aged between 18 and 70, all of whom had experienced at least one traumatic event in their lifetime. Using conventional methods, he determined 17.1% of the sample were classified as "lonely." That's in line with historical norms. Then he used a more detailed statistical technique to rate the participants' perceptions of their "social loneliness" (quantity of relationships) and "emotional loneliness" (quality of relationships) and compared it with their psychological distress. Respondents who scored high in both social and emotional loneliness, or just emotional loneliness, had levels of depression, anxiety, and negative psychological health that could be classified as a psychiatric disorder. 39% of participants fell into these two categories—over double the 17.1% number! The other 61%, roughly half of whom had neither type of loneliness and 8% had only social loneliness, did not exhibit signs of mental distress. Hyland believes his results show that loneliness, especially the "emotional" kind which comes from too few deep connections with others, is much more prevalent than previously acknowledged. Since loneliness has already been correlated to poor sleep, high blood pressure, cognitive decline, and early death, addressing loneliness could have a big impact on overall health and lifespan. Hyland suggests we should start by focusing on the quality, not the quantity of human connections. Which means less Facebook and more face time!

Bringing the past back to life never looked so vivid and comfy. Artist Bisa Butler transforms old black-and-white portraits into vibrant fiber arts with The Safety Patrol and other works. "I was the little girl who would sit next to my grandmother and ask her to go through her old family photo albums," Butler has said. Her love of art and photography took her to Howard University, where she studied under the likes of Elizabeth Catlett and Ernest Barnes. While there, she took her first fiber arts course, which set her off on a path to integrate her family's matrilineal traditions as she sews her mother's and grandmother's fabric scraps into contemporary collages. The Safety Patrol manages to capture the best qualities of Butler's aesthetic. The children's motley patterns, strong poses, and unity in form suggest bonds that cannot be broken or unraveled—even with the strongest pair of fabric-cutting scissors available.

Below: more of Butler's colorful quilts, including Anya with Oranges, and The Mighty Gents. A short documentary on Butler's life and artwork from BRIC TV.

Bringing the past back to life never looked so vivid and comfy. Artist Bisa Butler transforms old black-and-white portraits into vibrant fiber arts with The Safety Patrol and other works. "I was the little girl who would sit next to my grandmother and ask her to go through her old family photo albums," Butler has said. Her love of art and photography took her to Howard University, where she studied under the likes of Elizabeth Catlett and Ernest Barnes. While there, she took her first fiber arts course, which set her off on a path to integrate her family's matrilineal traditions as she sews her mother's and grandmother's fabric scraps into contemporary collages. The Safety Patrol manages to capture the best qualities of Butler's aesthetic. The children's motley patterns, strong poses, and unity in form suggest bonds that cannot be broken or unraveled—even with the strongest pair of fabric-cutting scissors available.

Below: more of Butler's colorful quilts, including Anya with Oranges, and The Mighty Gents. A short documentary on Butler's life and artwork from BRIC TV.

Seeing isn't always believing—especially when your subject travels at 186,282 miles per second. For this reason alone, the nature of light puzzled scientists for centuries. But thanks to luminaries like Albert Einstein, who finished his groundbreaking paper on the photoelectric effect on March 17, 1905, we now know how it manifests itself. So, in honor of Einstein, we're shedding light… on light.

One of the first physicists to hypothesize that light consists of particles was English polymath Isaac Newton, who conducted optics experiments in the 1600s. He noticed light obeys stringent geometric rules when bounced off of mirrors, just like bouncy balls and other physical objects. However, one of Newton's contemporaries contravened him; Dutch physicist Christiaan Huygens believed that light traveled in waves, with crests and troughs analogous to ocean tides.

By the 1800s, scientists further observed the wavelike properties of light, causing them to dismiss Newton's particle theory. British polymath Thomas Young, for example, noticed that light undergoes modification when shined through slits; similar to water, it bends around barriers and appears different once it passes through them. This modification process is called diffraction.

Scottish mathematician James Clerk Maxwell further connected the dots. His contemporaries noticed that electric currents manipulate magnetic compasses, and that magnets generate electric currents in wires. This relationship between electricity and magnetism is known as electromagnetism. Maxwell interrogated this relationship and discovered that light is carried by electromagnetic waves. Simply put, light is a form of electromagnetic radiation: a class of radiation which includes everything from visible light to radio waves to X-rays.

By 1900, scientists were certain light was a wave. Then German physicist Max Planck posited an unorthodox solution for the photoelectric effect. The term refers to how a metal becomes positively charged when bathed in light; something inside light behaves like a billiard ball, knocking negatively charged electrons out of metallic surfaces. Planck suggested that light "packets" of some sort were causing this emission of electrons. Most of the scientific community remained skeptical.

Enter Einstein and his own paper on the photoelectric effect. In 1905, Einstein theorized that both light and matter are composed of tiny quanta (units) that exhibit wavelike properties. Matter consists of electrons, protons, and neutrons, while light consists of photons. What made Einstein's theory so groundbreaking was that it argued a photon simultaneously behaves like a wave and a particle: this is called wave-particle duality.

What this indicates is that a photon—and by proxy, light—is something we can't fully imagine yet. But that doesn't mean humankind isn't trying to harness photons for practical purposes. In 2017, Chinese scientists instantly teleported information 300 miles above Earth to a satellite by transferring the properties of one photon to another through a mysterious and unfathomed process called quantum entanglement. Quantum teleportation of this kind, however abstruse, could eventually result in a new communication network: one faster and more secure than digital transmission. In other words, our grandkids might be communicating with light—faster than the speed of light!

Seeing isn't always believing—especially when your subject travels at 186,282 miles per second. For this reason alone, the nature of light puzzled scientists for centuries. But thanks to luminaries like Albert Einstein, who finished his groundbreaking paper on the photoelectric effect on March 17, 1905, we now know how it manifests itself. So, in honor of Einstein, we're shedding light… on light.

One of the first physicists to hypothesize that light consists of particles was English polymath Isaac Newton, who conducted optics experiments in the 1600s. He noticed light obeys stringent geometric rules when bounced off of mirrors, just like bouncy balls and other physical objects. However, one of Newton's contemporaries contravened him; Dutch physicist Christiaan Huygens believed that light traveled in waves, with crests and troughs analogous to ocean tides.

By the 1800s, scientists further observed the wavelike properties of light, causing them to dismiss Newton's particle theory. British polymath Thomas Young, for example, noticed that light undergoes modification when shined through slits; similar to water, it bends around barriers and appears different once it passes through them. This modification process is called diffraction.

Scottish mathematician James Clerk Maxwell further connected the dots. His contemporaries noticed that electric currents manipulate magnetic compasses, and that magnets generate electric currents in wires. This relationship between electricity and magnetism is known as electromagnetism. Maxwell interrogated this relationship and discovered that light is carried by electromagnetic waves. Simply put, light is a form of electromagnetic radiation: a class of radiation which includes everything from visible light to radio waves to X-rays.

By 1900, scientists were certain light was a wave. Then German physicist Max Planck posited an unorthodox solution for the photoelectric effect. The term refers to how a metal becomes positively charged when bathed in light; something inside light behaves like a billiard ball, knocking negatively charged electrons out of metallic surfaces. Planck suggested that light "packets" of some sort were causing this emission of electrons. Most of the scientific community remained skeptical.

Enter Einstein and his own paper on the photoelectric effect. In 1905, Einstein theorized that both light and matter are composed of tiny quanta (units) that exhibit wavelike properties. Matter consists of electrons, protons, and neutrons, while light consists of photons. What made Einstein's theory so groundbreaking was that it argued a photon simultaneously behaves like a wave and a particle: this is called wave-particle duality.

What this indicates is that a photon—and by proxy, light—is something we can't fully imagine yet. But that doesn't mean humankind isn't trying to harness photons for practical purposes. In 2017, Chinese scientists instantly teleported information 300 miles above Earth to a satellite by transferring the properties of one photon to another through a mysterious and unfathomed process called quantum entanglement. Quantum teleportation of this kind, however abstruse, could eventually result in a new communication network: one faster and more secure than digital transmission. In other words, our grandkids might be communicating with light—faster than the speed of light!

Did you know that the average square inch of human skin has 650 sweat glands, 20 blood vessels, 60,000 melanocytes (cells that produce melanin that give skin its color), and more than 1,000 nerve endings? You did? Wow... Well, then today's teaser is dedicated to you and the latent dermatopathologist in all of us.

Remember: a word square is similar to a square crossword puzzle, but the same words appear across and down. Here's an example of a 3x3 word square:

CAT
AGO
TOY

Below are four clues, not in order. Can you make a 4x4 word square out of it?

The skin
It will puncture the skin
It will heal the skin
To find it, look deep beneath the skin

Think you know the answer? Email support@curious.com with the subject "Teaser #178" and let us know, or check back next week to find out!

Did you know that the average square inch of human skin has 650 sweat glands, 20 blood vessels, 60,000 melanocytes (cells that produce melanin that give skin its color), and more than 1,000 nerve endings? You did? Wow... Well, then today's teaser is dedicated to you and the latent dermatopathologist in all of us.

Remember: a word square is similar to a square crossword puzzle, but the same words appear across and down. Here's an example of a 3x3 word square:

CAT
AGO
TOY

Below are four clues, not in order. Can you make a 4x4 word square out of it?

The skin
It will puncture the skin
It will heal the skin
To find it, look deep beneath the skin

Think you know the answer? Email support@curious.com with the subject "Teaser #178" and let us know, or check back next week to find out!

I've noticed successful entrepreneurs can turn a "no" into a "yes." Take Kenneth Cole. His fashion company is now a name brand worth hundreds of millions. It sells everything from sunglasses to handbags to shoes—which is how the company started. Well, sort of. When Kenneth Cole was launching his company in 1982, he had enough resources to make 40,000 pairs of shoes. But not enough money for a retail space to sell them. He knew he needed to launch at the industry's Market Week held at the Hilton Hotel, but he couldn't afford a suite or a showroom. So he borrowed a forty-foot trailer and planned to park it outside the Hilton. But when he tried to get a permit for the trailer, the mayor’s office told him only utilities and movie production companies were allowed to do that. So the next day he applied for a permit to shoot a movie called The Birth of a Shoe Company. He hired a director, cameramen, and "actresses" to model his shoes inside the trailer—which was parked right outside the hotel. Kenneth Cole sold all 40,000 pairs of shoes in two days, and a brand was born. That's why his company is still called "Kenneth Cole Productions." It's the name he used to secure the truck permit for his fake movie! Click below to hear Kenneth tell the story himself. Notice the part about how he made everybody wait "to build demand." Well played, Mr. Cole, well played.

I've noticed successful entrepreneurs can turn a "no" into a "yes." Take Kenneth Cole. His fashion company is now a name brand worth hundreds of millions. It sells everything from sunglasses to handbags to shoes—which is how the company started. Well, sort of. When Kenneth Cole was launching his company in 1982, he had enough resources to make 40,000 pairs of shoes. But not enough money for a retail space to sell them. He knew he needed to launch at the industry's Market Week held at the Hilton Hotel, but he couldn't afford a suite or a showroom. So he borrowed a forty-foot trailer and planned to park it outside the Hilton. But when he tried to get a permit for the trailer, the mayor’s office told him only utilities and movie production companies were allowed to do that. So the next day he applied for a permit to shoot a movie called The Birth of a Shoe Company. He hired a director, cameramen, and "actresses" to model his shoes inside the trailer—which was parked right outside the hotel. Kenneth Cole sold all 40,000 pairs of shoes in two days, and a brand was born. That's why his company is still called "Kenneth Cole Productions." It's the name he used to secure the truck permit for his fake movie! Click below to hear Kenneth tell the story himself. Notice the part about how he made everybody wait "to build demand." Well played, Mr. Cole, well played.

South African musician Ray Phiri, who played with Paul Simon on his seminal 1986 Graceland album, has passed away at age 70 in July 2017. The guitarist made his mark with Stimela, a platinum-selling band who spoke out against apartheid censorship and the personal turmoil it caused in songs like Whispers in the Deep. The song was banned on South African national radio, but that only made it more popular than ever—and Simon took notice. Phiri went on to play lead guitar on Graceland's Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes and is credited as a co-arranger on tracks like You Can Call Me Al. At the time, the South African-influenced album drew controversy for breaking the U.N.-backed cultural boycott of the apartheid country. But it's remembered as a classic record that helped expose the rest of the world to South African music. Rest in peace, Phiri; we'll remember you through those funky guitar riffs and mighty protest songs.

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Below: Ray Phiri on tour with Paul Simon for a performance of Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes.

South African musician Ray Phiri, who played with Paul Simon on his seminal 1986 Graceland album, has passed away at age 70 in July 2017. The guitarist made his mark with Stimela, a platinum-selling band who spoke out against apartheid censorship and the personal turmoil it caused in songs like Whispers in the Deep. The song was banned on South African national radio, but that only made it more popular than ever—and Simon took notice. Phiri went on to play lead guitar on Graceland's Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes and is credited as a co-arranger on tracks like You Can Call Me Al. At the time, the South African-influenced album drew controversy for breaking the U.N.-backed cultural boycott of the apartheid country. But it's remembered as a classic record that helped expose the rest of the world to South African music. Rest in peace, Phiri; we'll remember you through those funky guitar riffs and mighty protest songs.

Other streaming options

Below: Ray Phiri on tour with Paul Simon for a performance of Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes.

Forget stocking stuffers because St. Nicholas takes his treats to another item of footwear: our shoes. The tradition of shoe stuffing for St. Nicholas Day in December seems to stem from tales of Saint Nicholas of Myra, a wealthy Christian bishop who was known to secretly disperse his wealth to those in need—sometimes by leaving coins in their boots. As the tales have evolved through the years, so has the tradition; on St. Nicholas Eve, a family member dresses up as the white-bearded saint and, together, the family recounts their good deeds and shortcomings over the past year. When it's time for bed, everyone's shoes are laid out in a row, sometimes with a bit of carrot or grains left for St. Nick's trusty horse. When children and adults wake up the next day, they may find sneakers full of oranges, candy canes, and gold chocolate coins as signs of good fortune in the future. This is one holiday tradition that's sure to put a bit of sugar-pep in our step!

Forget stocking stuffers because St. Nicholas takes his treats to another item of footwear: our shoes. The tradition of shoe stuffing for St. Nicholas Day in December seems to stem from tales of Saint Nicholas of Myra, a wealthy Christian bishop who was known to secretly disperse his wealth to those in need—sometimes by leaving coins in their boots. As the tales have evolved through the years, so has the tradition; on St. Nicholas Eve, a family member dresses up as the white-bearded saint and, together, the family recounts their good deeds and shortcomings over the past year. When it's time for bed, everyone's shoes are laid out in a row, sometimes with a bit of carrot or grains left for St. Nick's trusty horse. When children and adults wake up the next day, they may find sneakers full of oranges, candy canes, and gold chocolate coins as signs of good fortune in the future. This is one holiday tradition that's sure to put a bit of sugar-pep in our step!

Finding the right shoe for the job proved tougher than it seemed during the 1939 production of The Wizard of Oz. L. Frank Baum's original choice of color for Dorothy's slippers was silver, but they were later changed to ruby red so they would stand out against the backdrop of the yellow brick road and play up the vibrancy of new technicolor film. Several pairs were prototyped and tested, with an early model nicknamed "The Arabian Test Shoes" for their curled tips. The above pair, which are on display at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History, feature felt soles to muffle extraneous noise; their wear and tear suggest they were worn by Judy Garland during dance sequences. After production ended on Oz, many of the shoes were relegated to MGM storage—until 1970, when four pairs were sold off at auction. Since then, a few have landed in museums, singer Lady Gaga received a pair in 2011, and one still remains at large, having been stolen from the Judy Garland Museum in Grand Rapids, Minnesota. It's too bad they can't click their heels three times to get back home where they belong!

Image credit & copyright: Smithsonian National Museum of American History

Finding the right shoe for the job proved tougher than it seemed during the 1939 production of The Wizard of Oz. L. Frank Baum's original choice of color for Dorothy's slippers was silver, but they were later changed to ruby red so they would stand out against the backdrop of the yellow brick road and play up the vibrancy of new technicolor film. Several pairs were prototyped and tested, with an early model nicknamed "The Arabian Test Shoes" for their curled tips. The above pair, which are on display at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History, feature felt soles to muffle extraneous noise; their wear and tear suggest they were worn by Judy Garland during dance sequences. After production ended on Oz, many of the shoes were relegated to MGM storage—until 1970, when four pairs were sold off at auction. Since then, a few have landed in museums, singer Lady Gaga received a pair in 2011, and one still remains at large, having been stolen from the Judy Garland Museum in Grand Rapids, Minnesota. It's too bad they can't click their heels three times to get back home where they belong!

Image credit & copyright: Smithsonian National Museum of American History

On December 8, 1980, the world lost a musical icon and counterculture hero in John Lennon. In the days following his assassination, thousands of fans flocked to the Dakota Apartments in the Upper West Side of Manhattan and nearby Central Park to pay their respects. Monday Night Football sports commentators took time out of their play-by-play action to notify viewers of Lennon's shooting; radio stations like WNEW-FM 102.7 in New York suspended their regular programming to take calls from listeners and devote time to Lennon's musical legacy. Things became so overwhelming that Lennon's widow Yoko Ono sent word to the grieving crowd that their overnight singing had kept her awake, and that they should reconvene at Central Park's Naumburg Bandshell for ten minutes of silent prayer. Following Ono's instructions, a crowd of over 225,000 people converged on Central Park on December 14th, with local radio stations in accord going silent for the 10-minute memorial, and the above image was taken in commemoration of the event. The massive gathering was evidence of how Lennon's music had touched so many lives with its themes of peace, love, and open-mindedness.

Below: more images from the days immediately following Lennon's shooting at the Dakota.